


Psychic Virus

by st_mick



Series: Niffler [26]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Torchwood
Genre: Donna's full of surprises, M/M, More going on than meets the eye, The Doctor knows to begin with an apology or four, This is going to hurt..., Troubled recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 16:08:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19321558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_mick/pseuds/st_mick
Summary: Ianto is not healing, and everyone is concerned.  His behavior is finally recognized as irrational, but what could be causing it?  The Doctor is able to fill in a few blanks.  He may be able to help with a solution, but first he must work past the grudges Ianto bears against him.





	Psychic Virus

Thirty-six hours later, Jack and Donna were with Ianto again.  Mickey and Toshiko had taken a shift, as had Tom and Martha.  The witches and wizards had left the night before, with a promise to return in the morning. 

Jack had spoken with Alice after Toshiko and Mickey joined Ianto, allowing Jack to make some calls and weigh in on the aftermath of the government’s betrayal.  As the Queen had asked, Tosh had released the footage of the meetings in COBRA and the public backlash had been almost biblical in its proportions.

Jack had asked his daughter to tell Theodophilus that his grandson had been injured, and promised to let them know once they had him stabilized.  The elder wizard was not fooled, and it hadn’t helped that the Queen had been on the phone to Harriet, telling her all about how “that pretty Mr. Jones” had been gravely injured.  However, Theodophilus knew that Ianto would prefer to be on the mend before he visited, so he reluctantly agreed to stay away, though he did beg for regular updates.

Jack looked at Owen, who had just scanned Ianto.  Owen looked up from the readings and shook his head.  “I’m not seeing a significant change.  Jack, he’s healing more slowly than a normal human being.”  He ran a hand through his hair.  “I don’t know what to do.”

A moment later, the younger man stirred, then seemed to go very still.  His breathing became shallow and ragged.  “Ianto?” Jack asked.  He kissed Ianto’s temple.  “You’re all right, Love.  You’re safe.  We have you here, in the hub.”

“Ianto, mate?” Owen asked.  “Can you let me know how you’re feeling?”

“Hurts,” Ianto gritted.

“Okay, fair enough.  You know the drill, though.  Scale of one to ten.”

Ianto took several breaths.  “Eight,” he answered.

Owen looked sharply at Jack.  Ianto always lied.  If he was admitting to an eight…

As if reading their minds, he explained, “Ten I’d be screaming.  Nine, groaning manfully.  Eight, I only want to scream, but can refrain,” Ianto panted.  He began pushing away from Jack, slightly.  “Need…  A minute,” he said, finding Donna’s hand and giving it a squeeze, seeming to have recognized the goop and taken it in stride.  He turned his head towards her, unable to see with the mask covering his eyes.  “Thank you,” he whispered.

She leaned up and kissed his cheek.  “Any time.  Jack’s a lucky man – you’re nice to snuggle with, even with the funky goop.”  With that, she grabbed her robe and wrapped herself up, heading for her desk to check emails until she was sure they didn’t need her back.  She was there to greet Draco and Luna as they arrived a few minutes later and give them an update.

Ianto let his head drop, now feeling even worse at the reminder that Jack probably didn’t actually feel all that lucky. 

Jack reluctantly slid from the table.  He took Ianto’s hand.  “I’m going to go make some calls, but I’ll be back, okay?”

Ianto nodded miserably.  Once he heard Jack dress and leave, he reached out.  “Owen?”

“I’m here,” Owen said, taking Ianto’s hand.

“Anyone else?”

“No, just us.”

“I’m not getting any better,” he gasped out.  “Wasting resources.  Distracting the team.”  He panted, trying to regain his breath.  Three short sentences had already taxed him.

“Here,” Owen held the inhaler to Ianto’s lips.  “On three…”  Once the pain relieving potion had been administered, he said, “You don’t need to worry about that.  We’re all right.”

Ianto shook his head, then regretted the movement.  “I think you should put me in cryo,” he said.

“What?” Owen almost shouted, then he calmed himself.  “Ianto, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“Owen,” Ianto breathed.  “I’m meant to live thousands of years, now.  Tens of thousands.”  He shook his head sadly as he struggled for more air.  “And I couldn’t even hold on to him for one.”  He began to shake, and it took Owen a moment to realize that he was sobbing.  It must have been agony, but he was silently weeping.  It was eerie, but then Owen remembered what he’d heard about Ianto’s childhood, and figured the younger man had learned that it was best to make as little noise as possible, when under constant threat of violent rages of a cruel drunk.

“Hey,” Owen touched Ianto’s cheek.  “Hey, you have it all wrong.  Jack’s over the moon for you.  He was just being a twat.  Nothing saying you two can’t kiss and make up, though.”

But it was as though Ianto could not hear him.  “Me tad was right,” he said miserably.  “I’m worthless and unlovable.  Couldn’t hang on to him, and why would he want me, anyway?”

Owen was frowning.  This was not Ianto.  He wasn’t the melodramatic, self-pitying type.  It was as though…  “Oh, shit,” he breathed.  “Oh, bloody balls!”  He reached out and grabbed the syringe with Ianto’s next dose of painkillers.

Ianto spoke again.  “Just freeze me, Owen.  Then he doesn’t have to deal with me, and I won’t interfere with him.  And when he finally goes, I will, too.”

“Never took you for the type to give up,” Owen said, even though he had a pretty good idea what was going on.

“Owen, I’m not healing.  I’m a burden.  And…” his lip started trembling again.  “I can’t feel my magic.”

 _Christ in a clown car_. 

As if the kid wasn’t traumatized enough.  “Look, your injuries are pretty extensive, and I’ve pumped you full of painkillers and sedatives.  We know that impairs your magic.  We can talk to Draco, but I’m fairly certain this is normal and temporary.”

Again, Ianto couldn’t seem to hear or process Owen’s reassurances.  “I’ve learned how to live without Lisa and,” he sniffed.  “I could maybe learn to live without Jack.  But my magic…  I can’t…  Owen, I can’t…”

Owen plunged the syringe into the IV line and watched as Ianto began blissing out.  It was a gnat’s bladder-load shy of an overdose, and Owen could only hope that it wouldn’t kill his friend.  At this point, he didn’t think dying would help, anyway.  Next he found a sedative and upped the dosage on that to a level just shy of lethal, as well.  He arranged Ianto between a couple of body pillows and ran for the hub.

“Jack!” he cried out. 

“What’s wrong?” Jack hurried back out of his office, phone calls forgotten.

“How is he?” Draco asked, reaching out to steady Owen with a hand on his arm.

“He wants me to put him in stasis,” Owen shook his head.

“What?” Jack paled.

“Why?” Draco asked, reaching out to steady Jack, as well.

Owen sighed.  “He knows he’s not getting better.  He thinks he’s a burden.  He can’t feel his magic.  And,” Owen hesitated, looking at Jack, “he thinks you two are kaput.”

Luna summoned a chair so Jack didn’t fall to the floor when his knees gave way.  “Oh, gods,” he muttered, looking ill.  “What have I done?”

“Jack, don’t be an idiot.  This isn’t all on you,” Owen said sharply, snapping Jack out of his guilt.  “Yeah, you were a twat, but c’mon.  You’ve got to realize, this isn’t Ianto.”

“What, then?”

“Well, his memory centers were inflamed.  What if reading the 4-5-6 brought up every insecurity?  That whole, ‘someone like me could never hold on to someone like him’ isn’t rational.  It’s one of those deeply hidden uncertainties that don’t really get uttered aloud, unless you’re a teenaged girl.”

“As a former teenaged girl, I take exception to that,” Luna replied tartly.

Draco snorted, and Jack gave a half-hearted smile.

Owen ignored them.  “And teenaged girls are more rational than he is, right now.  That’s why I think it’s a symptom.  It’s like he’s not even capable of hearing anything that contradicts the story his mind has latched onto.”

“So what do we do?” Jack asked.

“I have no idea,” Owen replied.  “He’s really hurting over you, but he’s also completely freaking out about his magic.”  He turned to Draco.  “I’ve given him as much painkiller and sedative as I can without causing an overdose.   We know too much pain medication affects his magic.  Can something just shy of lethal suppress his magic?”

Draco nodded.  “Between the trauma and pain and the potions and medications, it’s no wonder he can’t feel his magic, right now.  And you’re right.  Rationally, Ianto should know this.  But it’s normal for a witch or wizard to panic when cut off from their magic, and then rational thinking goes out the door.”

“So we’ve got a lot going on, on multiple levels, and we have no real way of dealing with it.  That about sum it up?” Owen snarked, feeling helpless.

Martha looked at Donna from where they’d been listening.  Donna nodded, and Martha pulled out her phone and rang her old number.  “Doctor, it’s me.  Please, can you at least call us?  We really need your help.”

Donna stared at her.  “Is that the message you already left?” she asked.  At Martha’s nod, she rolled her eyes and held out her hand.  “No wonder he didn’t call back.”  She took the phone and began speaking, her voice becoming a bit louder and more strident.

“Oi, Spaceman.”  She gave the date and time.  “We’ve dealt with the 4-5-6, so you don’t have to worry about interfering with any fixed points, unless Ianto Jones placing himself in stasis until Jack dies is supposed to happen.  And given what you told me about…” she trailed off, realizing everyone was listening to her tirade.  She turned her back and whispered, “…about centaurs and prophecies, I’m fairly certain that’s not what’s meant to happen, today.”  Her voice became louder as she concluded her call, “So get your bony arse to Cardiff, and I mean _right now_.”

A few moments later, an alarm sounded as someone arrived via vortex manipulator.  Mickey, Owen, and Toshiko all levelled their weapons at John Hart.

“And where the hell have you been?” Donna griped.  “I called you two days ago!”

John ignored the guns and faced Donna.  “Sorry, Love.  It’s tough to land within forty-eight hours of a fixed point.  I got here as close to the event as I could.  Now what’s happened?”

“There were aliens,” Donna said, still angry.  “And they wanted our children.  To get high on their little hormones.  And... and…” she became even angrier as unbidden tears began to well. 

“Oh, come here, Blossom,” John folded her into his arms.

Owen looked at Jack.  “Blossom?” he mouthed.

Jack shook his head, dumbfounded.  The man comforting his operative was a stranger to him.  Perhaps a few months of traveling with the Doctor had done him some good.  Perhaps _Donna_ had done him some good.  Jack’s first instinct was to turn to Ianto, to see his reaction to it all.  But with a dreadful pang, reality reasserted itself.

“So what’s happened?” John asked the others as Donna calmed.

Owen and Donna took it in turns to explain as Draco descended into the med-bay to check on Ianto.

John whistled.  “Eye-Candy is too…”

In the next instant, Jack had him by the throat.  “You’ll want to think very carefully about your next words,” he thundered as Mickey, Owen, and Donna attempted to separate them.

Jack allowed himself to be pulled away, and John rubbed his throat.  “Too decent, by half, I was going to say.  You know, you’re going to need someone with psychic powers to heal that kind of damage,” he said.  He thought for a moment.  “I might know someone,” he began, but he was interrupted by a grinding, wheezing noise as the TARDIS faded into view. 

“Damn it,” he swore.  Then he hugged Donna and gave her a long, lingering kiss.  “If I stay, he’ll take my vortex manipulator again.  Call me when he’s gone, and I’ll come right back.”

She nodded, and he vanished just as the Doctor bounded out of the TARDIS and looked around.

“Hello,” he said.  “Sorry, but Martha said you needed my help, and I thought it must be to do with the aliens, and that was a fixed point.  Well done, by the way.  I know killing them is normally not the ideal solution, but they were too far gone, really.”  He paused for a breath.  “Tell me what’s happened with Ianto, and I’ll try to help.”

Jack gave assignments to everyone except for Toshiko.  She showed various CCTV footage as Jack walked the Doctor through the past several days in detail.  He included the arguments because they were relevant.  He did not need to speak of his regrets – they were plainly writ across his features.  And while he gave reasons for his behavior, he knew he had no excuse.  He could not look at either of those who were listening, feeling deeply ashamed. 

The Doctor reached out and gave Jack’s shoulder a squeeze, letting the immortal know that he was not the only one in the universe capable of being an insensitive prat at the worst possible moment.

Toshiko reached out and held Jack’s hand as they watched the footage of Ianto carrying the constructive wave back to the aliens.  Once the playback finished, Owen returned and described the physical damage Ianto had sustained.  He showed the Doctor the brain scans as the week had progressed.

“If it was making him ill, why did you let him continue?” the Doctor asked.

“Let?” Owen scoffed.

“He’s Welsh,” Tosh said, looking amused.  “And a wizard.”

The Doctor looked confused.

“What they’re trying to say,” Jack said, eying both of them, “is that he’s stubborn as hell, and short of rendering him unconscious and risking his wrath later, there would be no way of stopping him from doing something, if he knew he could help.”

“He would have carried that constructive wave to the aliens, even if he wasn’t already dying, and even if he was completely mortal,” Owen said, and Toshiko nodded her agreement.  “He’d never stand by and not help, if he thought he had a solution.”

The Doctor sighed, nodding.  This tallied with everything he already knew about the young wizard.  “Show me the alien again,” he said. 

He put on his glasses and leaned in close.  Toshiko then pulled up photos that Mickey had taken before putting the dead alien in the freezer.  “Oh,” he said, finally recognizing it.

“Oh?” Jack said, not liking the tone.

“Phomeretians.”  The Doctor took off his glasses and sighed.  “Well, that explains a lot, actually.”  He looked from one of them to the other.  “You know how there are some plants that, as a defense mechanism, can produce metabolites or proteins that can be toxic or repellent to those that might try to use them as a food source?”

They all nodded, frowning.  Then Owen said, “Oh, hell.”

The Doctor nodded at Owen, who seemed to have caught on.  “Yes, because they communicate non-verbally,” he began, but Owen cut him off.

“By those shrieks and squishes?”

“No, it just seems that way.  They are primarily telepathic.  Think of the shrieks and squishes as their equivalent of facial expressions and body language.

“Ew,” Tosh shuddered.

“Wellll,” the Doctor expanded, putting his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels, “there are many species that consider a human smile to be quite ghastly.  It’s all about perspective.”  He sighed.  “Though I doubt you’ll want to hear it, I will tell you that most Phomeretians are completely lovely.”

“Yeah, yeah.  Wizard boy already told us.  These ones were like junkie thugs.”

“Yes.  But getting back to my point, because they are a telepathic species, they have a built-in defense mechanism that attacks anyone attempting to read them.”

Owen nodded.  “I was afraid of that.  That’s what’s caused all of this inflammation, isn’t it?”

“It is.  As I understand it, the defense mechanism finds whatever weakness it can in the invading mind, and it turns it against the invader.  Like a sort of psychic virus.”

“So trauma and insecurities are fair game,” Owen surmised.

The Doctor nodded again.

“So that’s why his flashback was so specific,” Luna said, remembering.  “And why his mind had drawn all of those parallels.”

The Doctor frowned.  “What do you mean?”

“Jack and I took a peek at his memories from the past few days,” she admitted, refusing to look apologetic.  “We were trying to determine why his healing factor was failing.  We saw all of these strange parallels that his mind had highlighted.”

Jack was frowning.  He hadn’t noticed what she was speaking of.

“Such as?” the Doctor asked.

“Well, that first day, right before they argued, Jack was standing there with his arms crossed and looking… annoyed.  Then later that day, his sister was standing before him, arms crossed in the same way, looking downright hateful.”

“Okay, so two separate events, but his mind has sort of highlighted the similarities, possibly making more of Jack’s annoyance?  Allowing some of the sister’s animosity to bleed over and be attributed to Jack?” 

Jack nodded slowly as realization dawned.  “It is possible.  It would explain why he went from confused and defensive to certain and resigned.”

“What else?” the Doctor asked.

“Well, it was as though the flashback he had was tailor-made to reinforce all of his insecurities and form the worst possible conclusion about Jack’s behavior, even if he knew on some level that Jack was only pushing him away, in that moment.”

“He even said he knew that’s what I was doing, but then he went on to be certain that I meant what I’d said,” Jack added.

“But even the words were echoed.  Jack said something about pretending and Ianto knowing nothing, and it’s like his mind reached back to a specific memory of his father saying something much worse, using those same words, and then pulling him further down the rabbit hole by adding that he was unlovable.”

“Okay, so we pretty much know what happened,” Owen said, wanting to skip to the part where they fixed this, rather than explaining it.  “Now what?  Can you help?” he asked the Doctor bluntly.

“I think so.  I’ll need to see for myself.  And determine what he will allow me to do.  By all accounts, he is a very powerful Occlumens, so we’ll have to see if he’ll even let me in.”

“His defenses were nonexistent when we looked,” Luna said, her expression grim.

“Really,” the Doctor said, his expression surprised, then concerned.  He quickly recovered, then gestured to Luna.  “Lead the way, then.”

When the Doctor caught sight of Ianto, he was shocked.  He would not have recognized the young wizard, with his hair shorn and a sleep mask covering most of his face and burn balm encasing the rest of his body. 

“Can one of you lift him off the table?  I can do this more easily with him on his back, but I don’t want to aggravate his injuries.”

“Certainly,” Draco replied.  With a wave of his wand, Ianto was hovering about an inch above the table.  He, Owen and Jack then carefully turned him so he was on his back.  The Doctor took one of Owen’s stools and sat at the head of the table.  He took Ianto’s head between his hands and bent forward, resting his forehead against Ianto’s. 

Almost immediately, he drew back with a hiss.  “Let me see the latest scan again, please,” he said, rubbing his forehead.

“What is it?” Jack asked anxiously.

“What you would expect,” the Doctor said, trying to keep his tone calm, for Jack’s sake.  “He is in a great deal of pain.”  He cringed at the understatement.  Ianto was in a shocking amount of pain, despite the dangerous quantities of medication that had been administered.  Having free rein to grow unchecked, the virus was running rampant, seething and roiling its way through the young man’s mind.

The Doctor looked at the scan, then shored up his own defenses before touching his forehead to Ianto’s and gently pressing into the young wizard’s mind.  He found himself moving through a miasma of memories that all served one purpose, only: to denigrate Ianto.  It was as though the virus was feeding on the despair created by those memories.

After spending a few moments getting the lay of the land, he began assessing the damage.  “His healing factor is intact, but it’s buried.  I think if we can overcome this despair he’s experiencing around his relationship with Jack,” he trailed off.  “Oh, now that’s interesting.”

He reached out a hand.  “Jack, come closer, please.”

Jack dragged another stool over beside the Doctor and took his hand as he sat.  The Doctor shook off his hand and reached out, grasping the back of Jack’s neck.  He chuckled.

“Well, after that first quarrel, he was quite annoyed with you,” the Doctor said, his voice slightly amused.  He hummed as he explored a bit more.  “Yes.  What you felt was not him severing your bond, but rather closing a door, cutting himself off from it.  The bond is intact.  Actually, it’s quite healthy, considering it’s the kind of nibbles this sort of virus adores.”  He frowned.  “Oh.”

“I really wish you’d stop doing that,” Jack said.

The Doctor leaned back and dropped his hands into his own lap.  He sighed.  “At the first sign of attack, Ianto reinforced his shielding, but he threw most of his defenses at the bond.”

“What?” Jack asked, shaken.

“He’s got good instincts, Jack.  Doubtless, he sensed that a bond as young as yours is fragile.  It will take some time for it to grow strong enough to withstand the kind of attack it would have fallen under.  The door, and the defenses he built around it, are the only reason it’s not in tatters.”

“His first instinct was to protect our bond,” Jack muttered, looking at Ianto, his heart aching.  “But that left him weak?”

“Not at first,” the Doctor replied.  “He is very strong.  He held his own until he was injured on the Phomeretians’ ship.  Now,” he shrugged a shoulder.  “The virus has gained a foothold.  The only way to fight it is to get him access to his magic, and free up his healing factor.”

“How…” Jack felt ill.  Would it even be possible?

“I will go in and try to contain the virus.  Heal what I can, though it won’t be much.  Then,” he looked at Draco.  “Is there a potion that will reverse the effects of the medication in his system?”

Draco nodded slowly, frowning.  “Yes, but the pain will overwhelm his magic, still.”

“I can help with that.  And you,” the Doctor turned to Jack.  “You will have to convince him to read you, to realize the truth.  Ridding him of that despair and re-establishing your bond will be the key to rebooting his healing factor and eradicating the virus.”

Jack nodded.  He wasn’t certain it was possible, and he was terrified.

The Doctor grasped his shoulder.  “Appeal to his logic and intellect, Jack.  It’s the only way.”

The Doctor returned to Ianto and spent the next hour attempting to contain the virus, preventing it from growing or spreading, and healing as much of the collateral damage as he could.  Every little bit would help.  He also made subtle pathways to the pain centers in Ianto’s brain.  When the time came, he wanted the way to be clear.

When he was done, he looked to Draco and Owen.  “Can you wake him?”

As they moved to comply, Jack lay next to Ianto and took the wizard’s hand as he wakened, groaning in pain.  “Jack?” he asked weakly.

“Ianto, we need to talk,” Jack said.  “I need for you to hear me out.  Can you do that?”

“What do you want, Jack?” Ianto asked wearily.

“You know through all of this, I’ve been telling you that you may have misunderstood the things I said?”

A frown could be seen, even with the mask obscuring Ianto’s face.  He nodded.

“Well, it’s more than that.  The 4-5-6 are a telepathic species, and they have a defense mechanism that attacks anyone that tries to read them.”

Ianto took a moment to absorb this.  “What are you saying?”

Jack sighed.  “I’m saying that in reading them, you were attacked by a sort of psychic virus.  It took the things I said and dug up all of your insecurities in order to undermine you.”  Jack took a deep breath and squeezed Ianto’s hand.  He refrained from touching him, otherwise.  “Think about it.  That day in my office, after Clem shot me, you knew that I was pushing you away because I needed a moment.  But then, out of the blue, you were suddenly certain that I was done with you, altogether.  Remember?”

Ianto thought back to the conversation.  He remembered telling Jack that he would leave him alone.  That he knew full well what Jack was doing.  But in the next moment, “The flashback fed the insecurity?” he asked.

“Yes,” Jack breathed, relieved that Ianto was piecing this together.  “It gets into your head and exploits every insecurity it finds.”

“So what does that mean?” Ianto asked carefully.

“It means that I love you, you idiot,” Jack replied, his voice fond.  “But I’m not sure you’re going to believe that, unless you read me.  And you need to believe it, because it’s your despair over us that’s blocking your healing factor.”

“Owen says the meds are blocking my magic.”

“Draco has a potion that will strip away the meds.”

“So then the pain will block my magic.”

“The Doctor is here.  He says he can help with that,” Jack knew this was likely going to be the greatest obstacle.

“The Doctor,” Ianto repeated, his voice flat.

“Yes.”  Perhaps the less said, the better.

“I see,” Ianto said, his voice deceptively mild.

“I know what you think of me, Mr. Jones,” the Doctor spoke up.  It had been difficult to miss, in reading the younger man.

“Oh, I doubt that, Sir,” Ianto snarked in the general direction of the Doctor’s voice.  He did not relish being sightless, but he trusted Jack to protect him, at the very least.  Even if they were done, Jack would not allow anyone to attack him, while he was injured and defenseless.

He didn’t think…

Ianto shook his head.  That was all wrong.  Of course Jack would protect him.  He’d done that, even after Lisa.  Why would Jack leave him exposed and vulnerable, now?

It occurred to him that maybe there was something to this virus business, after all.

“You blame me for leaving Canary Wharf so soon after the battle, not making sure the survivors were taken care of.  You blame me for deposing Harriet Jones and allowing Harold Saxon to rise to power.  You blame me for allowing Jack to be tortured for a year.  And you despise me for calling Jack wrong.”

“You’re wrong, Sir,” Ianto said quietly as he propped himself up on one elbow.  “I don’t despise anyone.  Gives them too much power over me.  Quite honestly, I don’t think enough of you to despise you.”

Owen coughed to disguise the strangled laugh that was trying to claw its way out of his throat as Draco covered his mouth with his hand.  He was fairly certain that no one could do sardonic contempt like their Niffler.

The Doctor flinched.  “If it helps, I offer an apology on each count.  I was reeling from my own losses that day, and I ran as fast and as far from Canary Wharf as I could.  I had come to an agreement with the Sycorax, and then Harriet Jones blew them out of the sky.  I felt that reflected poorly on an honorable accord I had brokered.  I mean, they were flying away!”

He ran a hand through his hair.  “But I concede that deposing her was done in a fit of temper.  I believe the Master would have risen to power, whether I’d made it easier for him by getting Harriet out of the way, or not.  Actually, he likely would have arranged her assassination, given her popularity.”  He sighed.  “But I am sorry about the Year.  If there had been a way to resolve it more quickly, I wish I could have found it.”

He sighed and looked at Jack, who was watching him, frowning.  “And I apologize for calling you wrong, Jack.  Those were not the words of a friend, and you were always my friend.  I am sorry I was not a better one, to you.  I abandoned you when you were alone and vulnerable and had no idea what had happened to you, and it was only grudgingly that I finally told you.”

He fell silent, and the sounds of the hub were the only ones that could be heard.  Jack was staring at the Doctor, then he looked at Ianto, whose head was lolling a bit, though he was still holding himself propped up on one elbow.

Clearing his throat, Jack said quietly, “Apology accepted.”

The Doctor nodded.  “Thank you,” he said quietly.

For his part, Ianto had been taken aback that the Doctor had a proper accounting of Ianto’s grievances against him.  He was even more surprised to have received the explanations, replies, and apologies for each complaint.  He nodded.  “Fair enough.  I understand what you say about the first three, and if Jack is satisfied with the fourth, it’s not my place to hold a grudge.  What are you proposing?”

And just like that, the air was cleared.  Draco shook his head and grinned at Owen, who looked confused.  Ianto knew how to hold a grudge, but only up to a point.  A reasonable explanation or an apology, and he was willing to allow any injury to be laid to rest.  It was one of the remarkable things about him.

After a moment, Owen was able to reason it through, and realized that forgiveness was a value that Ianto and Jack shared.  Either man, it seemed, could forgive anything, provided they could understand the dynamics of the events in question.  He shook his head, chuckling to himself that half of Ianto’s complaints against the Doctor were about things that had happened to Jack.  Wizard-boy was never as good at holding a grudge on his own behalf, but he was going to count every hurt Jack had ever received, and demand recompense.

If Owen were forced to provide a definition of love, that would be it.

The Doctor looked confused, but Jack grinned at him, and he realized that sometimes, it really was as easy as that.  He blew out a breath.  “I will take you through the pain.  Your body will still experience it, but I will help your mind to go beyond it, long enough that you should be able to access your magic and perform the _Legilimens_ spell on Jack.  Then, if you will allow me, I will help you to fight the virus.”

“How?” Ianto asked.

“I will help you to take a step back and see your mindscape in such a way that you will recognize the virus.  That will allow you to fight it.”  He sighed.  “But I am afraid that, at this point, the only way to eradicate it is to allow it to reach the pain centers in your brain.  Without the pain meds, those areas will be irresistible to the virus.  But while the virus is frighteningly intelligent, it does not know that direct contact with that level of pain will burn it up.”

“So at some point you will have to drop me back into the pain.”

“Yes.”

“All right.”

The Doctor frowned.  He looked to Jack, who was stroking a hand over what was left of Ianto’s hair.  “I don’t know that you understand what I’m saying.”

“You’re saying there will have to be a great deal of pain, for the virus to be destroyed.”

“I…  Well, yes.  Do you have any questions?”

“Will you be able to keep me alive long enough for the virus to be completely eradicated?”

The Doctor realized that the young wizard understood the situation all too well.  “I believe so,” he replied.

Jack looked like he was about to protest, but Ianto interrupted him.  “So I’ll read Jack, and as we re-establish the bond, he can help defend it while you and I ensure that my healing factor is freed up to do its job, yeah?”

“Yes.”  The Doctor sighed.  “Your mindscape.  It will be constructed in a way that will make it easiest for you to navigate.  Don’t be surprised if it is a familiar… situation.”

Ianto nodded.  “Like one of the battles?”

“Yes.”

“All right.  Anything else?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.  Pretty sure it’s not your fault, though.”

“Still.”

***

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know. It has been *weeks*. Sorry! 
> 
> What had initially looked like one part (and then two) has become... more. Can't even promise it'll just be three, because another little plot thingy is tweaking my brain - a loose thread from a few stories ago, and how to resolve it.
> 
> Thanks for your patience, and hope this one is okay. I've been hesitating because of the length - don't want it to drag, but also want it to be a good resolution.
> 
> Thank you everyone for reading!!!


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